Tainted Innocence
by Bluedog270
Summary: She never believed in fairy tales. The ones where the damsel in distress is saved by a knight in shining armor. She was living a nightmare and for someone to come along and save her, well . . . she couldn't be lucky enough for that to happen to her. But maybe, just maybe a curly haired boy can make her believe in love again. / Slight AU, MoosexCamille /


_Disclaimer: I don't own the 'Step Up' movie franchise or the song 'Never Too Late' or 'I Hate Everything About You' by Three Days Grace_

* * *

><p>~Author's Note~<p>

This took me forever to write, every idea was on and off because I wanted this one-shot song-fic to be near perfect for my first try at a Step Up fanfic. :)

This is slightly AU, because of the plot line but I hope it still stays true to their true characters, even if the plot is somewhat dark.

*******Rated T**** for minor language; also falls under the categories of friendship and angst.* **

Read, enjoy and review :D

* * *

><p><strong>Tainted Innocence<strong>

* * *

><p>Camille Gage didn't have a good life.<p>

She didn't have caring parents willing to buy her the latest styles.

She didn't have any good friends.

She didn't have anything.

Her mother died during childbirth. Her father went on a rampage, scaring Camille forever and landing himself in jail. Her older brother Tyler took off with her younger brother when she was seven, she was never his favorite.

She lived with abusive foster parents who would do anything just to get her to feel like nothing—sometimes it seemed like they enjoyed her pain.

The pain of being alone, the pain of feeling like nothing.

It was the times when the two malicious adults would taunt Camille about her scar that were the worse because she could never do anything about it.

The scar was a part of her, a bold reminder of the past she could never escape from. Over the years the bruises and cuts and vile words had followed her were nothing like the pain she felt right now.

Alone, cold, empty.

Nothing.

Her dorm room was too quiet. She didn't want to hear the dreadful sound of the rain pounding on the window from outside like an invisible cage. Camille sat on her bed, her legs tucked in so she was sitting in the form of a curled up ball. She came here to be free, to finally get away from all the shit back home.

But right now, she would rather be home under the scornful words of her 'parents'.

She left her home of Maryland just about a day ago, after scraping up enough money from the jobs she juggled while she was in high school. Moving to the dorms of NYU by herself was harder than she thought it would be but she managed. Her minor amount of boxes were all unpacked already, her clothes neatly folded away in her dresser while the small collection of books she owned were perched on the shelf above her bed.

She didn't have a roommate; apparently no one wanted to share a room with 'the monster'.

She had only been in NYU a day and the nicknames and teasing had already started, each word latching onto her heart like pieces of broken glass that you couldn't avoid. Her first day of actual school was tomorrow and she was apprehensive. Scratch that, she was horrified.

How would she hide the scar?

Would people snicker all throughout her classes so that Camille couldn't properly focus?

What about in the dance class she was taking?

How in the hell was she going to hide the other marks and welts and nicks when she got changed?

She felt dizzy from the amount of overwhelming thoughts that entered her head, signing as she stared at the blank white wall in front of her. The immature boys were always worse than the girls somehow. It did truly scare her when one would make a death threat to her in high school, because she knew there was a possibly it could happen with the strength every guy seemed to have.

She didn't even have a cellphone, in case she ever needed to call for help—no one would be there.

No one ever was.

She signed once more before closing her eyes and praying that tomorrow would at least be bearable.

That was all she asked for.

* * *

><p>"Ms. Chloe Jean Apcot?"<p>

The teacher, Camille realized in a panic, was young. That fact alone meant she couldn't sneak out of her Advanced Writing class without being noticed by Ms. Carrie's grey, stormy hawk-like eyes.

Ms. Carrie was only in her thirties with some obnoxious blue glasses that were balanced upon her nose while she carefully read out each student's name to make sure she didn't mispronounce anything. Her blonde hair was messily thrown into a bun, sole strands sticking out in some places.

"Here," The girl answered as Ms. Carrie moved on to the next person on her list. Camille was freaking out on the inside.

It was a small class, only about fifteen kids but that didn't calm Camille down at all.

These fifteen infuriating, adolescent, sophomoric teenagers were about to hear her full name and to say she was scared to death was an understatement. She was named after her mom; before her dad went berserk he had enough sense to give her the middle name of the woman he loved most in the world.

Her whole past was going to be said right out in the open.

But her mom's name was different, and weird in some sense.

Of course her first name was different too but nothing like her middle name.

Her whole life she always went through the struggle of hiding her middle name from her foster parents and teachers and now the name was printed in provoking black ink, watching and waiting to ruin Camille's life even more.

She could have a panic attack right now, which would get her out of class.

"Mr. Robert Julius Alexander?" Camille looked around the room for the owner of the name, seeing one boy wince from the blunt use of his middle name. Camille signed; sadly knowing the teacher was getting closer and closer to her name, even if she was still on the A's.

Her heart was beating faster and faster.

She felt like she was going to explode.

How was she going to survive?

It was always kill or be killed her whole life but this was just hectic.

"It's the third actually." The boy's voice was infected by the aftermath of a laugh. His voice seemed to calm Camille in a sense. "Robert Alexander the third. But you can call me Moose."

Some of the boys sitting around him snickered, and Camille easily assumed that were his friends by the large smile he sported on his face afterwards.

She was able to get a good look at him without the other teenager noticing; the hat she wore to hide her scar caused her orbs to be concealed. Moose wore a beaten up grey beanie that hid the crazy brown curly hair beneath, Camille wondering how curly his hair truly was when it wasn't matted down by a hat. His irises were bright with a playful gleam, and she was could tell by the way he spoke to his friends that he was a cocky person. But not in a nasty attitude, more like a muted playful attitude hidden within.

Camille was told by her Aunt Gracie that she was great at reading people.

A simple black hoodie was thrown over his shoulders, covering the grey V-neck underneath. His form seemed tall and scrawny. Black jeans fished off his look and she envied him already. She didn't know where he came from, who he really was or what happened with his life but she was jealous of what he did have. It seemed like he had so much versus her never having anything at all.

That book collection in her dorm room?

She had reread the same books for at least the twentieth time just an hour ago, to calm her nerves before her first class of the day.

"Ms. Camille Serenity Gage."

It seemed like her heart stopped right then and there. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts she didn't even notice that Ms. Carrie had quickly gone through any names in front of hers and now she had just spoken hers, spoke her middle name out loud for every damn person in the room to hear.

It seemed like a million eyes turned to stare at her, all she wanted to do was pull her baseball cap down farther down her face.

"Here," her voice was quiet, near unobtrusive.

She saw Ms. Carrie look her way swore the older woman almost; almost give a malevolent sneer in her direction.

"Ms. Gage,"

She could feel Moose's eyes burning a hole into the back of her head from across the room.

Why would he care?

"There is a strict no hats allowed during class policy. Please take it off,"

Camille wanted to laugh and cry all at the same time. It was funny, at the start of class she had wondered why a seemingly nice lady like Ms. Carrie wasn't married yet. Apparently, heartless people kept their inner nastiness hidden away for any students they didn't mind. The same couldn't be said for Camille.

Ms. Carrie seemed to glower at her with a look of bewilderment when Camille didn't move to take her prized hat off her head. It was in her medical records that if needed, Camille was allowed to wear a hat to hide her scar if she felt 'insecure' about the situation. Camille knew her medical files were transferred correctly, she checked in with the principal before school started.

She struggled to find her voice before the witch of a woman spoke again.

"I-It's on my f-file." She mentally cursed at herself for stumbling over her words, hearing the stubbed laugher of students grow brash in her ears.

"Excuse me?" Camille cleared her throat and subconsciously fumbled with her fingers. Her cheeks grew warm as she spoke louder this time, making sure her point would get across.

"On my file there's a—"

"Oh please Ms. Gage, spare my time. I've heard every excuse in the book. Take it off now or else your time here at NYU will be nonexistent."

Some of the boys in the back of the classroom sniggered, one standing up and making a scene out of the situation. "Yeah Gage, take that shit off—this isn't high school anymore!"

Ms. Carrie quickly scanned through her seating chart to see who had called out, as the class erupted into mad laughter. Camille could hear the small rumble of Moose's voice trying to shut his friends up but she knew it was useless.

Everyone loved laughter.

Just not her.

"Mr. Jefferson, please take your seat. Class, quiet down."

Camille knew she had to take her hat off, she didn't have another choice. The rumble of noise slowly quieted down and Ms. Carrie gave her one last warning look before starting her lesson. Carefully the older woman wrote down the title of the first unit and while everyone else started to write down notes, Camille pulled her hat off her head in one swift movement.

She could feel the stares and hear the whispers, even if the room was completely silent as Ms. Carrie taught her lesson.

The nineteen year old girl just kept her gaze on her hat for the rest of class, glad she still had one thing left from home. She stole this ratty old hat from Tyler when they were little, she couldn't had been no older than five. It was the one thing from her life that was connected to good memories of Tyler chasing her through the house—his loud, carefree laughs echoing through the empty house.

Moose observed her from his seat across the room, watching how she carefully played with the pieces of black string sticking off the front of the cap. It was one badass looking hat, if Moose did say so himself. It was black all around, with the words DC in white, outlined by neon green. On the backside of the hat was a small star in neon green with a stripe running through sideways. Moose would wear a hat like that; it was his style—even if he preferred beanies to cover his barren curls.

The hat matched what Camille was wearing, even if she was wearing a black sweatshirt with black sweatpants.

To anyone else, it would seem Camille had an obsession with death. But to Moose, she seemed like a normal girl who was just misread. The caramel hair she had tied in a ponytail on her head seemed long and soft, Moose wanted to see what it looked like without being messily thrown into a ponytail.

The sweatshirt hung loose on her body, it was easily three sizes too big for her slender body. The thing that stuck out the most was the scar located on her left cheek, it wasn't small nor was it huge. It was big enough to be noticeable to the bare eye, but Moose thought it just added difference to her; that it made her look unique. He understood why she wanted to hide it so much, but she honestly didn't need to.

It just looked like someone had gotten a little too crazy and had something in their hand with an accidental hit to her cheek. It looked painful but it was mostly just discolored and skin that didn't heal properly.

Suddenly, she turned her head to look over at him and he diverted his eyes completely, not being able to _not_ notice how warm her brown orbs looked. She looked back down at her hat after a few more seconds, silence pursuing the rest of class.

As soon as the bell rung, Camille quickly grabbed her things and rushed out of class, wanting to get to her next class as soon as possible—even if the terrors of contemptuous dancing awaited her.

She made it halfway to dance class before a hand softly grabbed her arm, causing the girl to jump and flinch in surprise all at the same time.

"Hey, hey it's alright. It's just me, and I promise I'm not that bad to hand around with." Camille scolded herself for thinking someone had caught up from her past and was about to hurt her. How stupid she was . . . she turned towards Moose, who had a small smile on his face. She wanted to yank her hat back down over her face again, to hide her features.

She didn't wear any makeup and she sure as hell didn't believe herself to be pretty. She saw his eyes move from her hat down to her shadowed scar and then to her lips.

Camille snapped herself out of trying to decode the boy standing in front of her and spoke; her voice low as they stood off to the side of the hallway. "Sorry, I'm a little jumpy . . ."

She allowed her voice to trail off as she glanced down at his limited edition green and sliver Nikes. Seems like a pair of shoes Tyler would have collected back in the day.

"Everyone is jumpy on the first day of school. I'm Moose by the way, Camille right?" She nodded, looking up at him. He laughed, shaking his head. "I just wanted to tell you something real fast . . ."

Camille felt her stomach churn, erasing the butterflies that had been floating around only seconds before.

This was where he was going to say he hated her and—

"Can you trust me?" His voice jolted her out of her thoughts and she allowed puzzlement to cross her face. The funny part was, she didn't have a problem with trusting him—there was some invisible force telling her to trust him completely no matter what. He reached out towards her hat and carefully pulled it off her head, his other hand falling to her cheek.

His thumb traced over her scar gently and his eyes didn't leave the contact of her's.

She couldn't help but melt at his touch, even though it was completely irrational.

He could be some type of murderer for God's sake.

"Just so you know Camille, I think it's beautiful."

* * *

><p>This world will never be<p>

What I expected

And if I don't belong

Who would have guessed it?

I will not leave alone

Everything that I own

To make you feel like it's not too late

It's never too late

* * *

><p>Moose escorted Camille to dance class after that, considering he had the same class. He had struck up multiple conversations with her the short distance to their class. No matter how hard she tried to allow the silence to trap her, he wouldn't allow it and instead would allow a question to leave his lips and in a way it would force her to at least answer and say something.<p>

Camille admired how he didn't want the conversation to end, how he kept trying to find different ways to keep it alive. It was like he enjoyed being in her company, like he actually enjoyed _her_.

She felt happy by the time they walked in the dance room, and he even had her laughing at her next statement. They headed over to the bleachers towards the side of the room and she felt his hand softly grip her shoulder just as she was about to sit down.

"Hey just give me one sec to go and say a few things to my friends." Camille sent him a small smile and nodded, Moose releasing her arm as he threw down his bag and looked at her again. "Do you want to come and say hi?"

She didn't hesitate in shaking her head; "No, it's alright. I'll wait right here."

Moose sent her another grin. "Alright, just one second I promise I'll be right back."

He turned and stalked off to the other side of the gym room the dance class took place in, Camille laughing quietly to herself in his absence. She took a seat and played with her hat quietly.

Moose had insisted that she keep her hat off her head for the rest of the day, saying how she looked 'so damn beautiful without it on'.

Camille got lost in her own thoughts before someone came and broke her mindless mulling.

"Don't have your hat on Gage?" She looked up just in time to see the same boy from her last class laughing loudly at his oh-so-hilarious joke.

"Go away," She muttered, trying to sound as careless as possible.

"Now why would I do that? I would much rather make sure no one else has to gauge their eyes out after seeing that disgusting thing. God, cover it up." Camille instantly lifted her hand up and covered her scar, the insecurity taking control of her shamefully. She stayed silent as he took a step closer to her, Camille wishing he would just go away. "It is a shame; if you didn't have that shitty scar I would totally—"

"Cass, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Camille nearly sighed in relief after hearing Moose's voice cut him off.

Cass Jefferson looked up at Moose with a loud laugh after seeing his disgruntled features. He pushed his jet black hair out of his azure eyes while Camille quickly threw her hat on her head, hoping everything would just go away.

Moose looked pissed as he made his way in front of Cass; his fists were clenched in full resentment.

"Get the hell away from her Cass; go screw around with your friends instead." They seemed like they had history, Camille thought with remorse. Now Moose was being dragged into something that wasn't even his battle and she hated it.

"Oh little Moose coming to the rescue,"

"Cass I'm warning you—"

Moose took a step towards him and Camille knew she had to interrupt or else Moose would get beaten into nothingness. The older boy had a bulky frame, his green Nike sleeveless shirt showing his bare biceps in their full glory.

"Moose,"

Luckily he was close enough so Camille could grab his arm to remind him not to do anything stupid.

"This bitch already has you wrapped around her pathetic little finger," Cass snapped, the dance teacher called attention before Moose could react and the older boy headed towards his friends.

Moose took a seat next to Camille and she grabbed his hand, in a solemn thank you of some sorts. She felt Moose squeeze her hand just as the teacher started talking.

"Hello class, I'm Mr. Davis and I just want to start dancing already. You sighed up for this so that is all you get. Now pair up and start dancing!" When no one moved, the elder man rolled his eyes. "Let's go!" His deep voice resounded around the gym and for a long-standing man with sliver-grey hair he was damn perky; Camille thought with interest.

Camille watched as everyone around her got into pairs and fear seized her.

Moose grabbing her arm snapped her out of it, a calmer feeling replacing her fear. "Want to work together?" Camille instantly nodded her head, beyond grateful that he didn't leave her.

"As long as you can dance," She answered with a carefree laugh, Moose rolling his eyes as he guided her over to the middle of the room. Her eyes widened at his bold action, simply the fact of everyone now being able to see them dance scared her. Mr. Davis was over by the stereo, scrolling through his iPod for a song.

"Wait here," The mysterious tone of his voice sent shivers down Camille's spine as he ran over to Mr. Davis and suggested a song to which the teacher started playing instantly.

He walked back over to where Camille was standing just in time for the first beat of simple hip hop music to start playing. He started out dancing with some simple moves, and then a sudden base drop appeared and Moose followed the beat intently, his body popping and swaying to every single drop.

Camille couldn't help the smile that was gallant on her face, as Moose kept a pleasant grin on his face. Some invisible force begged her to show off to the gawking students standing around them, to show all those ungrateful assholes that she was something.

Maybe it was the reassuring grin on Moose's face.

Maybe it was the urge to be something more.

Maybe it was the rude comments Cass was shouting her way over the music.

All Camille knew was that in seconds, her body was moving to the beat of the remix- her badass freestyle causing even Cass to grow silent. Moose froze and watched Camille with awe, his heartbeat loud and pounding in his ears. His eyes watched her every move, how her body matched the beat perfectly.

He truly loved how she looked; he truly loved the way she danced.

Moose took a step towards her, about to grab her hand and tug her body towards his but suddenly the angel in front of him twisted her foot in the wrong direction; her body flying to the ground. She tried to do the reverse move Tyler had taught her, knowing for sure it would've awed everyone.

But she did it wrong.

It took Moose a second to react, and she was already on the ground before he reached her side and placed his hand on her side. She winced at the contact, feeling a burning pain where his hand had just rested. He pulled his hand back, worried.

"Cam?" He questioned; his tone full of torment. That's when all hell broke loose as Cass started firing off joke after joke- causing the whole class to crack up in laughter.

Camille felt the tears prick her eyes as she pushed Moose away from her and stood up; running towards the door.

"Camille!" She ignored Moose's cries as she headed back to her dorm room.

* * *

><p>Even if I say<p>

It'll be alright

Still I hear you say

You want to end your life

Now and again we try

To just stay alive

Maybe we'll turn it all around

'Cause it's not too late

It's never too late

* * *

><p>It took him a while to track down where exactly her dorm room was.<p>

He tried asking around, but all he was answered by was chuckles and sneers.

He signed as he approached her door, wondering if her roommate was there comforting her.

He felt his heart race as he raised his hand to knock, taking a deep breath before he rasped his knuckles on the dark wood. He heard shuffling from the other side of the door and Moose felt a smile tug at his lips. She was okay. But that was crazy—Moose always thought she would be okay, that was the logical thing. Why his mind had even wandered to other places—

"M-Moose?" Camille's voice was quiet when she answered the door, shocked that the nineteen year old was even proudly standing before her. She didn't think he would even show.

She didn't think he would even care.

His eyes locked on hers for a few moments before traveling down her body and landing on the left side of her rib cage. Her left hand was holding her blue t-shirt in such a fashion that her entire left side was showing—bluntly broadcasting the medium sized gash located there.

She was able to see the shock in his eyes instantly and before she could drop her shirt, he was already next to her with his warm hand resting directly below the cut.

"Is this from earlier?" Camille didn't trust herself to speak so she just nodded, regretting not telling a lie the moment she saw the look that crossed his face. She felt his fingers barely ghost over the cut, wincing anyway.

"I'll be fine, I always am." She sent him a forged smile.

"Cam, this looks bad. Maybe you should—"

She let her shirt fall, causing Moose to remove his hand and send her a inquisitive glare. "I will be fine." She stated firmly, noticing Moose's fit figure promptly slacking with relief at her strict words.

If only he could see how much worse she had been through . . .

"Can I come in?"

"As long as you don't complain about how I can dance better than you, then sure." He entered and she closed the door behind him, walking over and taking a seat on her bed.

"Wait a minute, who said your better than me? No one can match these sick moves." He said as he showed a robot-like move, finishing off with some freestyle.

"Alright Moose, believe what you want to believe."

Camille laughed, as he grumbled something about being the best as he took a seat next to her on the bed. His shoulder bumped against hers, and she turned to look at him. "I came here to make sure you were okay after what happened." The tone of his voice seemed to be dancing around a different thing he didn't want to shed any light on and Camille decided to leave it alone.

She shrugged her shoulders. "It was just a fall Moose, I'll be fine."

His helpless stare was burning a hole through her irises.

"Camille," The way her name rolled off his lips—he seemed desperate for something. "I meant Cass being an asshole. He hurt you, I could tell."

She wanted to object and say it wasn't possible for him to know anything about her, considering he didn't even know her.

She had no choice but to stay silent.

To say she didn't trust herself to speak was an understatement. Camille crawled to the top of her bed, resting her body against the headboard and closing her eyes.

"I've gotten use to the taunting Moose. After dealing with it for over nineteen years, you just get used to it." She can feel his body weight shift as he moves from the end of the room to beside her, pulling her small frame against his side in a hug.

"I've known you for eight hours, twenty three minutes and sixteen seconds. And I figured out it would suck if I hadn't had meant you."

She rolled her eyes, chuckling softly. "Moose?"

"Yeah?"

"You just made up the numbers didn't you?" Her tone was in a playful matter, accusing all the same.

He just pulled her closer in response, Camille moving to rest her head on his chest.

"Maybe. But I would do anything to make sure you feel like you aren't nothing."

She let a bitter laugh escape her, "I think I am close to nothing. Not too many people care what happens to me. Nobody actually,"

She felt the hand resting on her back start to rub up and down, like a calming lullaby.

"Your smart, your funny, your favorite animal is a gecko, you're from Maryland, you came here to get away from your home, your dad is in jail and your so damn beautiful."

She looked up at him then, about to throw some type of logic in his face but the look that wormed it's way across his face stopped her completely.

It was a look she couldn't figure out, surprised by that simple fact because he was as easy to read as a book.

His voice was rough when he talked, laced with a true intention.

"You aren't nothing Chameleon. You are everything."

* * *

><p>No one will ever see<p>

This side reflected

And if there's something wrong

Who would have guessed it

And I have left alone

Everything that I own

To make you feel like

It's not too late

It's never too late

* * *

><p>"Cam!" Camille was sitting on a bench outside of NYU's entrance; a pair of light blue beats headphones sitting on top of her head.<p>

I Hate Everything About You by Three Days Grace was blasting through the speakers, preventing her from hearing Moose as he walked over to her.

Once he saw her relaxed form lost within the song's meaningful words, he simply took a seat next to her, touching her shoulder softly.

She jumped at the contact at first but after turning and seeing it was Moose sitting there with a smug smile on his face she rolled her eyes and shook her head; not bothering to remove her headphones.

Moose laughed, moving closer to her so he could take on side and lift it up to his ear to listen in. He softly started to sing the lyrics as they appeared, being fairly familiar with the song. Camille listened both to the music blasting and to Moose's soft singing—finding tranquility in the odd mix.

They had been friends for about five months now, Cass hadn't bothered to mess with Camille seen Moose had dubbed her as 'his best friend in the whole wide world'.

(The amount of nicknames he had for her was outstanding)

He introduced her to some of his friends—Monster, Kido, Vlad—who all had welcomed Camille with open arms. Everyone always assumed that Moose and Camille had known the other their entire lives; they seemed to be attached at the hip.

The care he showed for Camille on a daily was enough for his friends to tease him about hooking up with her non-stop and Moose yet still seemed to be obvious to everything.

Even the growing feelings Camille started to gain towards him.

She wasn't one to send subtle hints or gloat or any of that shit—she just hoped he would see it someday.

Maybe someday soon.

* * *

><p>Even if I say<p>

It'll be alright

Still I hear you say

You want to end your life

Now and again we try

To just stay alive

Maybe we'll turn it all around

'Cause it's not too late

It's never too late

* * *

><p>The song ended, Camille taking off the headphones and setting them carefully beside her. She turned to Moose, who seemed to be anxious as he tried to avoid her curious eyes. She grabbed his hand, causing him to look up at her.<p>

"Moose," She questioned, "what's wrong?' He shook his head, another way of secretly saying he was too afraid to say what was really on his mind. "Come on Moose, you can tell me." She continued, hoping that what he was about to say wasn't something horrible.

She heard him sigh, as he locked his eyes with hers. "Cammie, I need to tell you something. But . . ." He trailed off, his sentence staying open as he struggled to find the right words. "I'm scared that if I tell you it will ruin—"

"Spit it out Moose, it can't be that bad—"

Suddenly her words were cut off by Moose's lips pressed delicately against her's, showing her what he desperately wanted to say. It took her a second to react before she relaxed and allowed herself to get lost in the feeling of his soft lips. His hand came up to cup her cheek as her arms wrapped around his neck, beyond pleased that this was actually happening.

He pulled away after a few more moments of pure bliss to stop himself from going too far—plus he figured they both needed some air. They stayed close to each other, their foreheads touching.

Camille was breathing heavy as she looked into his eyes and saw only pure admiration.

Was this real?

"If—"

She shook her head to stop him, feeling his nose rub against hers.

"Just tell me one thing Moose," He looked at her, a smile gracing his features.

"Anything Chameleon," His voice was heavy with something she assumed was yearning.

"Is this real?" Her tone of voice came out breathless, as he chuckled; Camille feeling the beautiful rumble of his laugh.

"As real as you want it to be."

His lips were back on hers within seconds after her desired answer.

* * *

><p>The world we knew<p>

Won't come back

The time we've lost

Can't get back

The life we had

Won't be ours again

* * *

><p>"Moose," Her voice held hints of uncertainty as they approached her house and he shook his head—silently cutting her off.<p>

"Stop it Cammie. I'll protect you. I promise." He pulled her close to his side with his arm wrapped protectively around her waist.

"You can't always protect me Moose; these are the people that strive in my nightmares."

"Cam I will be damned if I at least don't try to save you from your own personal hell."

It was summer time.

Everything was in full bloom; everything had an air of cheerfulness attached.

Moose and Camille were on summer break and it had been six months since their relationship was started up and the two were still going strong.

Everything was going perfect until about three weeks ago.

They were lost in a heated moment and Moose had started to tug her shirt off, Camille forgetting about all the marks and scars that had forever branded her.

He then saw everything, Camille wasn't able to lie her way through and continue on lie she wasn't being haunted by her own personal demons.

Moose had demanded to be told the truth right then and there, Camille having the choice to either destroy their love or relive her nightmares.

She went with the latter, telling him everything. Now here they were, back in Maryland for Moose to help Camille end everything.

They were here to tell them that she was never coming back.

Again.

She raised her hand to knock on the door and then froze—memories of past times overwhelming her. His reassuring voice brought her back to the present as the door unexpectedly opened, Camille's foster father standing before them.

"What in the hell is all of the fucking noise—"

He stopped mid-sentence when he saw Camille standing there, fear written over her every feature.

* * *

><p>This world will never be<p>

What I expected

And if I don't belong

* * *

><p>"What are you doing back here?" He hissed, and Camille could tell by Moose's rigid posture that he was growing more pissed off by the moment.<p>

"I-I just wanted to t-tell you something." The man that stood before them was livid, irritated—he wanted to bash her head in.

"Spit it out then bitc—"

"Don't you _dare _call her that you ungrateful bastard." Camille flinched when she heard Moose's emotionless voice break her father's words, knowing that the aftermath was going to be pure hell.

"What did you just call m—"

Camille cut him off franticly, not wanting Moose to get hurt.

"I'm never coming back. So don't come looking for me, don't ever try to find me because you are no longer in charge of me anymore."

The older man stared at her for a moment, Moose grabbing her hand and starting to take a step backwards.

"Well then fuck off and never come back." With that final word, he slammed the door and Camille stood there shocked. She had done it. Moose led her back towards the road where his old Camaro sat waiting for them.

"Why didn't you just let me rip his head off?" He questioned sourly as they made it to the car, Moose starting it up. Camille shook her head, knowing what her father was capable of.

"It's finally over Moose, why add wood to the fire?"

"Well—"

She leaned over and brought his lips to hers, shutting him up before a smartass comment could leave his mouth. It was like their first kiss all over again, but this was more lustful yet full of relief. She pulled away, pushing some of his curly hair out of his eyes.

"I love you Moose."

"I love you too Cammie, but I still want to kick his ass."

She chuckled, shaking her head.

"You don't need to Moose, because I'm never coming back here. I finally found somewhere where I belong."

* * *

><p>Even if I say<p>

It'll be alright

Still I hear you say

You want to end your life

Now and again we try

To just stay alive

Maybe we'll turn it all around

'Cause it's not too late

It's never too late

Maybe we'll turn it all around

'Cause it's not too late

It's never too late

It's not too late

It's never too late


End file.
